


Skin and Bones

by pastel_tea_rose



Category: Horrortale (Fandom), Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Body Dysphoria, Body Horror, Bulimia, Cannibalism, Everyone Needs A Hug, Gore, HorrorTale, Other, Papyrus is okay, Reader Is Not Chara, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader is gender neutral, Reader needs some help, Sad times, Sans is super not okay, im bad at tagging, im so sorry, why did I do this?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-05-30 08:17:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15092819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastel_tea_rose/pseuds/pastel_tea_rose
Summary: Your name is (F/N) (L/N).You have a weight problem. Your sister seems to think you have an eating problem but you couldnt disagree more.During one of your pathetic "meetings", you meet a certain skeleton. He seems rather traumatized.A symbotic relationship blossoms from this meeting;He eats the fat from your body, removing your need to purge, and heals you time and time again after.You get to be happy, he gets to feed and fill his addiction.Everyone wins.. right?TRIGGER WARNING; THIS STORY MAY CONTAIN CONTENT THAT IS SENSITIVE TO CERTAIN AUDIENCES. PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. STORY CONTAINS MENTIONS OF CANNIBALISM, EATING DISORDERS, GORE, AND THEMES OF SELF HARM AND SELF HATRED. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THIS MAY UPSET OR HARM YOU.





	1. Morning Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Authors Note  
> -+-+-+-+-+-+-  
> Hi! This is my first work on this specific site, though I have been on deviantArt for years now. I hope this goes well! I am super open to comments and suggestions for where to go with this story. 
> 
> PLEASE note the trigger warning put in the summary.   
> PLEASE be advised.

P u r g e.

Your eye slowly opened to the new day. Soft light flooded into your bedroom through the cracks in the blinds. The morning glow burned your eyes as you slowly sat up. The familiar feeling of nausea ran through you. Taking a deep breath, you picked up your phone. 10:47AM. With a sigh you drag yourself to a standing position. There was no point in stalling Sunday morning anymore. 

E m p t y.

You flinched as you stared at your morning medication. You contemplated making coffee but the thought of putting liquid or solid ANYTHING made you want to gag. You sighed again as you turned on the machine which gurgled and spat to life. You didn't like coffee but it gave you energy and you sure as hell couldn't swallow pills dry. Not to save your life. 

Slowly you poured the brown liquid into a dull blue mug, taking your pills in the other hand. This wasn't going to be fun but it had to be done. You inhaled deeply before popping the pills into your mouth and forcing coffee in after it. Your tongue burns at the sheer heat of the drink as swallow. You slam the mug down a bit more forcefully than you appreciated. 

Seconds passed. Then slowly, minutes. You gave a satisfactory smile. You had successfully kept the liquid down and in your stomach. This morning was a small victory, but one you would take nonetheless. You began to finish off the mug of coffee, happily placing the mug in the sink. Now you could start your day properly. 

The smile stayed on your face until you got to the bathroom.

V o m i t.

Your (e/c) eyes peered in the mirror. The warm morning light streamed in through the bathroom window and did you no favors. The sight before you disgusted you.

Your skin was pale and you could see nearly every vein. Every small mark was a pox on your existence- a failure. An imperfection. Your face seemed so.. Fat. So round. The sight of it made you sick. Every part of your body was far to fleshed out. Your stomach seemed to be a pool of blubber. Tears stung your eyes and your hands made their way to your hair, tugging harshly. A small clump came out in your hand which did nothing to help the tears that now rolled down your cheeks. Why? Why did you have to be.. Like this? 

P u r g e.  
E m p t y.  
V o m i t.

Your mind screeched at you and without hesitance, you obliged it. You doubled over the toilet and let what meek contents your stomach had come tumbling out. Sobs ripped from your throat. You stayed this way for a while- how long, you didn't know. You didn't want to know. 

When you decided you had finished you flushed the toilet and ran yourself a hot shower. You would brush your teeth after. Really, you would. The taste of bile in your throat was noxious, but the thought of putting anything near your lips or teeth right now was to much to bear. 

T h i n.

You slowly ran a brush through your hair. You had gotten dressed and cleaned yourself up. Getting dressed was easy if you never looked at yourself. A hoodie and jeans were never hard. And they covered you. As much of you as you could cover. 

You glanced at the phone still on your nightstand. 12:10PM. You smiled weakly. You were on time. You wouldn't be late for your meeting. 

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

Cold metal. The chair beneath you was cold and metal. You were arranged in a circle with 9 other people. This was your meeting; a help group for those with eating problems. You didn't have an eating problem; you had a weight problem. In your eyes, you shouldn't even have been here. This isn't where you belonged. The weight wouldn't come off and eating more wasn't going to solve that problem! Your sister had basically twisted your arm until you agreed to attend this pitiful program. She didn't understand. She got to be slim and beautiful. No one ever seemed to understand. 

You stared at those around you. Monsters. Humans. It didn't matter. They were all pitiful and filled your heart with a brief sadness. They needed help. Some looked like they needed a hug. 

The monster had come to the surface years ago. 4? 5? You didn't remember. They had come and still some were coming up and beginning life. As far as you were concerned, they were just that. Monsters. You had heard the rumors. The stories. Everyone had. 

They had gone crazy down there. A famine had struck them and left them all in a ghoul like state. A world where it was kill or be killed. Eat or be eaten. Those that came up needed serious help and therapy in order to cope and learn. Some would never be able to revert to sanity and were kept in special “rehabilitation” institutions, but everyone knew they were never going to get better. They had watched their loved ones be murdered and devoured. Perhaps they had eaten them, themselves. 

A gravelly voice brought you out of your thoughts. You peered up to see the skeleton monster directly across from you. His eyes were aggressively black and a single blue eyelight peered out at you. A large crack in his skull is a prominent feature in his appearance. Hes obviously nervous, if his fussing with his hoodie strings is any indicator. His voice is flat and low as he speaks.

“hi. ‘m names sans. sans the skeleton. i-i… i came from ‘da underground ‘bout a year back. i..i have ‘bit ‘f an eatin’ issue.”

The group gave the typical “hi -----” greeting to him. You zoned in and out as he spoke, your eyes focusing mostly on his one empty socket and his cracked skull. A crack like that would have killed a human. But he wasn't human, you thought, he was a monster. A being held together by magic. 

As he spoke you learned small things about him. He previously lived in the Underground, in a town called ‘Snowdin’. He had a brother. He was here for said brothers benefit. The were on different levels of progress. He was a Level 3 while his brother was a well adjusted Level 1. He talked about his brother like he was the hottest thing since sliced bread. He started on some of his actual eating problems but quickly stopped and sat back down, a bead of sweat running down his skull as he twiddled his thumbs. The next person began to speak but you couldn't be bothered to listen. You were to interested in the skeleton.

As if he felt you staring at him, his eyelight meeting your eyes. He quickly snapped back down to looking at his thumbs. 

Perhaps you would talk to him. 

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-


	2. Pick. Pick. Pick.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter from the eyes of our favorite skeleton.  
> Why was that human eyeing him like that?  
> What did they want? 
> 
> Humans are strange..
> 
> And this one is no exception.

The sound reverberated in his ears. A soft thumping. A slow and steady beat. 

He knew that sounds to well; that was the sound of prey. Of food. Of delicious flesh.  
The sound of survival, even.

Sans loathed these stupid group meetings. A sign sounded in his head. He knew he had to. He had to get better. If he didnt, he risked being institutionalized. Who would take care of Papyrus? Who would take care of his beloved little brother? Who would read his bedtimes stories and make sure he was provided for? 

He sat down and sweat trickled down his skull. No matter how many times he tried, he couldn't bring himself to talk about the Underground. The slaughter. The families torn apart and the horror he once saw on Papyrus’ face when he returned covered in blood. Sans had done horrible things. Things he regretted, but knew were necessary. Overall he was very neutral on the act of killing and devouring. Before.. Before the famine, he would have been completely against the idea. He was the Judge of the Underground. He was supposed to be fair.

 

There was nothing more fair than death. In that world, it was mercy. 

 

Sans could sense the human across from him staring. Their gaze was intense and he was certain is was trained on him. The thought made him intensely uneasy. He flicked his eyelight up for just a second and found his suspicions to be correct. They were staring. He gritted his teeth as another bead of sweat ran down his face. Why did they stare? It was making him uncomfortable. He could practically smell the blood under their skin. He could almost taste the iron on his tongue.

No! This was wrong. He needed to get the hell out of here. Without more than a word he excused himself to the bathroom and out of the eyes of the stranger. The bathroom was blessedly cool and once the door slammed shut behind him, he felt a sense of security. Alone. He was alone. 

Sans ran the tap and gently splashed some cool water on his skull. It did nothing other than wet the bone and blend with the sweat which he quickly dried. Without much thought he brought his hand up and began to pick.

P i c k. P i c k. P i c k.

Papyrus constantly nagged Sans about this nervous tick. It had started as an idle touch to an injury around his eye socket. He couldnt remember how it evolved to the picking, but somewhere along the lines, it did. He would dig into the wound and rip at the scab. Papyrus would nag him about the wound and heal him, but he was certain it would do nothing. It would never ease the itch or the discomfort.

So he did as he was doing now; picking. Resisting the urge. Refusing to act on his instincts. Picking in place of eating.

P i c k. P i c k. P i c k.

His phalanges dug into the scab, tearing the already irritated wound back open. Cyan oozed from the socket and covered the very tips of his phalanges. It was a simple release. Not so much of a sting as a release. It gave him comfort. It brought a smile to his face. He sighed loudly before vaguely wiping the cyan liquid on his blue hoodie. No one would notice unless they looked hard. He stared down at his signature garment; it was stained endlessly but it was hardly noticeable. 

Sans shook his head before walking back out of the cool bathroom and into the seeming heat of the group circle. He was fully prepared to sit back down but discovered that the meeting was over. People were picking up their chairs and he did the same, stacking the cold metal foldable up with the others. He heard the person behind him approach but said nothing.

“Hey. You're Sans, right?” the voice behind him spoke. Damn. They had to talk to him, didn't they? He just wanted to leave. Regardless of his wants, he turned to face them. The humans heartbeat filled his head. The heartbeat of prey. Of food. A pulse he could so easily snuff out. No! No!

P i c k. P i c k. P i c k.  
The urge screamed.  
P i c k. P i c k. P i c k.

“yeah. ‘m sans. ‘ta skeleton, obviously. an’ you are?” he asked. He didn't particularly care but formality and politeness seemingly demanded it. 

“(F/N) (L/N), nice to meet you. You okay? You kinda bailed and hightailed it to the bathroom. You don't need to be to nervous.” their voice seemed genuine. Warm? Concerned? Sans didn't care to much to focus on it so much as he focused on the movement of their lips. 

He shook his head in response. “‘m fine. Just.. ‘lsewhere, ya’ know? things ain't always so easy ta talk ‘bout. i-i gotsta’ go.” he said gruffly. He didn't want to talk. He really didn't want to talk. Why was he bothering to talk to this human? He could easily end them here and now. It would take 10 seconds, maybe 30. A flick of his wrist. 

There was the urge. The crave.

P i c k. P i c k. P i c k.

“Oh. Sorry, I'll let you go; but first i wanted to give you my cell number. Ya know.. In case you need it. We’re supposed to be here for eachother, right?” 

You grimace but not, unlocking and handing them your phone. The human types something in, their contact, and then send themself a message. Their phone dings in response. When they hand it back, you see their contact. “Generic Human #1”. This draws a soft snicker out of you. 

“generic human, eh? seems like ya’ sellin’ yaself a lil’ short, don't it?”  
“Nah. The only thing a little short here seems to be yourself, buddy.”

You snicker again, and shake your head. Humans were strange. He liked a sense of humor however. It made conversation easier. He wasn't.. Very good at conversation. But jokes came naturally. He was glad he had that left.. After the accident. 

“well i hate to break it ‘t ya but i gotta go. ‘ll message ya though.” 

Without waiting for to much of an answer, you turn to the exit and quickly take a shortcut home.  
When the floor returns under your feet, its covered in a boring beige carpet. It was the only boring colored thing in the apartment besides the wall paint. Papyrus had insisted on everything else being bright and cheerful because it would help recovery. As a result, the furniture were shades varying from the robins egg blue colored couch to the orange curtains. Sans could easily hear movement in the kitchen and could smell pasta sauce. It wasn't hard to guess what his brother was doing. 

He slowly shuffled into the kitchen and leaned against the doorway. His little brother, easily 4 heads or so taller, was moving about making his signature spaghetti. It wasn't necessarily good, but it was food. Papyrus even when out of his way to make meatballs tonight. Sans smiled. He knew his brother only did that after meetings as a reward for him. 

The ding of his cell was what gave him away, which caused his brother to spin around.

“SANS! YOU HAVE RETURNED! I HAVE BEGUN THE MAKING OF CELEBRATORY SPAGHETTI AND AS A REWARD FOR YOUR EFFORTS, MEATBALLS. I WENT TO THE HUMAN BUTCHER FOR BEEF AND EVERYTHING. I HAVE TRIED A NEW HUMAN RECIPE. DID YOU KNOW THEY DONT EVEN PUT GLITTER IN THEIR MEATBALLS? WHAT KIND OF MEATBALL IS THAT?!” 

His brothers enthusiasm made him smile. Moment like this made life good. Made it all worth it. 

“‘iunno paps. humans are weird.” he said as he peered down at his phone to see a message from Generic Human #1. 

“humans are definitely weird.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Two is completed!  
> How is it going? How are we all liking this?


	3. An Appointment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are back in the readers point of view! For this one, atleast, you will be seeing through your own eyes. 
> 
> (f/c)= Favorite color.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AUTHORS NOTES  
> Hey everyone! Sorry Ive been away! I suck.  
> Tomorrow is my birthday and recently, my older brother passed away. Its been rough, no lie. Im not exactly sure how to deal with it or handle this all.  
> But! In effort to keep up with the changing seasons, I hope to change my writing habits.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think at the end!

Generic Human #1 11:23  
I hate doctors appointments. This is absolute crap.

Sad Skelly 11:24  
Dunno what ‘t tell ya kid.  
Just.. dont go?

Generic Human #1 11:24  
Thats not a choice. My sister gets a call if I dont show up and I really dont need her breathing down my neck.  
This is such unrelenting crap.

Sad Skelly 11:26  
Itll be okay.  
Just look at the bright side?  
Iunno. 

You peered down at the bright screen of your cell and gave a loud sigh. It was odd for you to be texting someone for once. Even weirder to be doing so at one of these stupid appointments.  
Every 2 months, your sister would force you to get up and make a doctors appointment to check your vitals and your “weight progress”. You knew exactly what was going to happen. 

You were going to go in, strip, and sit down. Theyd tell you youre unhealthy. Need to eat more. 

Even the thought made your stomach flip. You needed to eat less if you were going to actually make any progress. You didnt have time to be lectured about weight when they CLEARLY didnt see the actual problem. 

The usual nurse just gestures at you to leave your waiting room chair. Youd almost rather stay out here. The scent of the hallway was sterile. The scent made you uneasy; and that coupled with the unendingly bright lights didnt help. You despised hospitals. You remember spending time as a child with your.. With your family here. No. Nows not the time to think about that.  
Your eyes are trained solely on the back of the woman before you, tracing the patterns of her colorful scrubs. A smile reaches your face for a moment when you see Winnie the Pooh and Piglet on them. Those bring you back. When you were little, you loved Winnie the Pooh to no end. It was adorable. You followed the little yellow bear and little pink pig all the way to the room. Focusing on them… it gave you determination.  
You just werent sure what you were determined to do. 

Sad Skelly 11:40  
You still with us, kid? 

Generic Human #1 11:42  
Yea. Sorry. They just called me back.  
The nurse has cute scrubs on.  
Little bears an shit.

Sad Skelly 11:45  
See? Bright side.  
Focus on the little bears if it helps. 

Generic Human #1 11:46  
Winnie the Pooh. Look it up.  
Little yellow bear with a red shirt.  
I used to love that stuff when I was a little kid.

You changed into the dressing gown as instructed, awkwardly and hopefully clutching your (f/c) hoodie and loose sweatpants. Clutched them like a lifeline as the nurse weighed you, and clicked her tongue. Her brown eyes gave a sympathetic look but she didnt reprimand you.  
“The doctor will be with you in a few minutes. Just relax,” she said quietly. You disliked that look on her face. You, even more so, dislike the number she had muttered while writing on your chart. Once she had left and the door clicked shut, you examined the document.

You skimmed past your name, age, and blood type. The number you were quickly looking for was easy to find. Weight: 97lbs. 

97 pounds.  
97 pounds?  
97 pounds.

The number quickly made itself known and you shook your head before sitting down on the examination bed. 97 pounds. You couldnt believe it. That.. couldnt be right. Tears pooled your eyes slowly. You had gained 4 pounds since your last appointment. You examined your forearms and thighs through the transparency of your tears. 

The rest of the appointment seemed non-existent. All you could hear, despite the doctors rantings, was your weight. The soft click of the nurses tongue. The dieting guide the doctor gave you. 

97 pounds.


	4. Silence

The skeleton paced the length of his disaster of a room, clutching the phone in his hand tight. Ever since that damned appointment the human- his human friend hadnt responded. He had texted multiple times; called almost as often and there was still nothing. It was as if his human had completely disappeared out of the timeline. The thought made his wound itch. The thought of timelines and universes.. It was to much.

There was nothing but silence. 

Generic Human #1 11:46   
Winnie the Pooh. Look it up.  
Little yellow bear with a red shirt.  
I used to love that stuff when I was a little kid.

He stared at the last message. What the hell had happened? And why didnt the human answer?   
Sans had looked up the little yellow bear with the red shirt. He decided quickly it was dumb but showed his brother nonetheless. Papyrus had quickly decided they HAD to go out and get books about the little Pooh bear. He smiled but sighed regardless. Even with his new friend MIA, he always had Paps. 

Where was he again? 

Sans paused, phalanges sliding up along the side of his skull to gently pick at the opening that adorned his skull. He didnt fully register the feeling of liquid on his bones. He didnt particularly care. Where was Papyrus? He stopped picking for a moment.

Papyrus had gone out for the evening with his friends. He would be back. And until then?

There was nothing but silence.

He paced his room. Sans debated. He could take a nap. He could eat. He could go find his human.. The latter of the three resonated throughout his skull. The small voice in the very back of his skull told him he was acting odd: that the human wasnt HIS. But they were. He had decided that a long time ago. Sans didnt know when, but he had decided this human was his and would be his. A grin slowly spread across his face, wider than normal. So wide it hurt. Thoughts began to fly through his head. He dug sharply into the cracks now, raking the tips of his phalanges along the scabbed over wounds. Sans could feel small bits of dust now, in addition to the liquid that coated his hand and dribbled slowly down his skull. Warm liquid. So warm. Like his human. So, so warm, it was nearly on fire. Cerulean splattered down onto the carpet. 

He felt like laughing as the world began to spin; a mixture of bold hues. The blues that run from his wound. The cream of the carpet. The colors of discarded shirts swirled about the room. He couldnt tell if he was spinning or the universe was but in that moment he didnt care. He would have his human. 

Colors slowly melded into words.

Violence.  
Control.  
Love.  
Care.  
Hatred.  
Care.  
Love.  
Love love love love lovelovelovelovelove…

He would have his humans love. He would paint the world the color of his humans soul; and he quietly wondered what colors he would identify within them. 

As his thoughts grew louder, the world spun faster. Harder. Faster, and faster, and faster. Alone, the skeleton spun. Shouts took over his mind, shook his body.

There was nothing but silence.

**Author's Note:**

> SO! There was this trainwreck. I hope you like it.   
> Please leave some feedback for me! Id love to hear what you have to say and Id love suggestions for the plot. 
> 
> Did you like this work? Leave some kudos! ♥
> 
> Super like this work? Consider buying me a ko-fi! ♥  
> https://ko-fi.com/F1F7FN35


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